RRA's Version of THE MATRIX RELOADED
by ronnierocketAGO
Summary: ronnierocketAGO will attempt, with pure arrogance and pretentiousness, to recreate THE MATRIX RELOADED in his own independent version.
1. Preface

**RRA's Version of THE MATRIX RELOADED**

What this small mini-project of mine, I seek to re-create the flawed but quite intriguing blockbuster sequel THE MATRIX RELOADED. In the story writing sense, it had stunning ideas that really displayed the best creative abilities of the Wachowski Brothers. However, this sequel along THE MATRIX REVOLUTIONS were heavily rushed and as a result, THE MATRIX RELOADED ends up feeling like a movie with great themes for exploration, but of which may have only ended up as half-baked.

My take on THE MATRIX RELOADED will never replace the film that now exists. In fact, there is a very slim margin of error on either end of the scale for this "remake" to either be superior or inferior to the motion picture. In other words, no middle ground for yours truly. However, when one plays with fire, one risks getting burned badly.

Comments, criticisms, opinions from everyone would be appreciated, especially as this process will develop throughout a limited amount of time.


	2. Prologue

From the darkness, I see the night-sky lining landscape of a major metropolitan city. However, I instantly recognize it as the absolutely generic and stagnant "city" that makes up false reality that is the Matrix. I watch as millions upon millions of enslaved human beings carry-on their nocturnal vices. If they only knew what was behind the curtain.

With skyscrapers that all look non-unique, a building in the distance catches my eyes. A rather glooming glass structure that strangely stands apart from the mechanic mirage of the Matrix, almost a monument in itself to the successful artificiality implemented by the machines themselves. I slowly float consciously closer to this building when reality is shattered.

Someone jumps out throw the window and proceeds to fall downward, followed by another. I realize that the first jumper is one of the leather-wearing members of my revolutionary human forces from Zion, while the second jumper is an Agent program guard for the machines. The rebel jumper is female and through time-delayed slow motion, she turns in midair and fires her firearms against the masculine Caucasian-visualized Agent, who draws his revolver against her.

As they plummet towards the street below, they fire away at each other, almost as if they were unaware of their shared predicament.

My heart is paralyzed when I recognized the woman fighting for her life. _Trinity. _

How, when, and why she is struggling to survive is unknown, but then the Agent pulls the trigger, and the canon of a gun pushes the bullet into the open. Trinity desperately keeps blasting her guns away as she sees this ammunition of a spear coming towards her. With time stretched beyond senses of reality, her breathing intensifies; her hair flutters in the wind, and she is helpless to dodge this bullet in time.

The bullet is a direct hit to her chest, and my chest feels this lethal punch with her. Her eyes lose focus; she loses control of her weapons, and floats toward her death, whether the bullet or asphalt street first remains to be seen. With life slipping away from her eyes, she mutters one soft word from the bare lips of her sullen face.

"_Neo_"

I am subconsciously not surprised, if expecting, to hear her usher that word, that name once again before her death._ My name._

She falls from my view, but suddenly I only witness a body, whatever it is Trinity or the predator Agent, smashing into a parked car with all the muscle of gravity. Then the light breaks through from another dimension of reality…


	3. Is Anybody Out There?

It was a dream. But as I gaze upon the automated small lamp shining brightly at my face, with intense sweat moisturizing my back and legs, I keep asking the same questions I have asked myself after having this same dream again and again. What is that dream about? Is it a prophecy? Is it simply a harmless dream that contains a culmination of my fears of the future for myself, my people I am supposed to lead to freedom, and especially for my Trinity?

Four years ago, Morpheus recounted to me the prophecy of The One, the savior and founder of Zion, and his fall, with his promise to faithful that he would return one day, and defeat the ruling machines once and for all. With Agent Smith murdering me in the hallway, the only thoughts in my mind were simple. "_I failed humanity, including her_".

But then I rose after a bizarre, almost spiritual sensation swept my senses, and in defiance of my demise, I was ordered by this same aberration to stand up. My blood on my chest drips downward onto the digitally designed dirty floor as Smith and his Agents realized that I was not exterminated. Smith, in breaking of the stoic programming of the Agents, charged into me with the intent of finishing his assignment. However, he was not facing Thomas Anderson, or the would-be computer hacking rebel Neo. No, he is to be destroyed by The One. His demise confirmed, and with the other Agents running for their drone lives, I quickly ran to the mad little phone that won't quit ringing. As I transferred from the Matrix back onto the ship, I had a distant fleeting thought.

_I love her, but does she share my feelings…_

With the machine robotic predator destroyed by the EMP pulse immediately after my return, I opened my eyes to gaze upon hers. I had no clue until later that of the prophecies given by the Oracle to everyone, her message to Trinity was that her destiny laid in becoming a mate, once and forever, of the messiah. _Me._ Our fates intertwined with our first kiss.

That memory makes me grab one of my two weak pillows and hold onto it for a strong minute. I miss her smell, her presence, her warmth, and most of all, her comfort. I may have friends, followers, younger surrogate siblings, hell an actual family I never had in my days of slavery. However, she is my only true confidant that is honest with me, the only one who gives me comfort when our arms wrap around each other. She makes me believe that she is my personal savior.

I may destroy agents, be the focal point of hopes and dreams for the free remnants of humanity, and truly doing my Superman thing. But I'm powerless without her. She is my booze. She is my smack. I need my injection of Trinity now!

Without the mystery of the dream solved, nor Trinity within my grasp, I let go of the pillow and proceeded to get up. The light was programmed by the ship's automation system to wake up its crew to take over for their work shifts. It is my night shift, and I walk out of my officer quarters and down the silent hall down to the Operator's station. Even in his weakened state, Tank can still outmuscle any other Operator within Zion's fleet in endurance and stamina. However, he is no good to us with his energy spent.

I enter the station terminal, with Tank hearing my arrival. He graciously, rises from his chair and slowly limps away to his awaiting few hours of rest and dreams. Tank was a man that was always ready to perform his job, and whatever it took for the resistance movement. His spirit compensates for his wrecked-body. He makes major efforts to appear, save for the limp itself, totally ready to go at anytime. However, if you closely inspect his bottom jaw when he walks, it is obvious that despite his acting, he is _still_ in pain.

After Cypher's betrayal of the cause, Tank barely survived a brutal charge from the traitor's electro-weapon. While he lived to help bring me back after my "resurrection", his wounds were severe and never quite healed, along with his mental state after his brother's murder by Cypher. I feel guilt fact that with my emergence as the One, the balance of the universal karma had to be maintained, and Dozer was dispatched as a result. Trinity and Tank try to assure me that it wasn't any of my fault, but doubt still remains within me. I had to lose in order to gain.

Operators, the free-borns within the hierarchy of Zion's militaristic society, take years to learn the thousands upon thousands of characters that make up the code of the Matrix. Save for recognizing a few Japanese characters, which there reversed state appear regularly within the code, I knew nothing. Yet now I can instantly recognize and visually describe in very fine detail the false jail of reality. To the Operators, it's probably the biggest puzzle to piece together on a consistent schedule.

To me, it is simply looking out the window. This is no real pleasure to me. Seeing this farm of a zoo, I feel like I'm watching sadistic torturing, beatings and bondage within the walled-in corridors of a prison cell. On second thought, the latter sounds more appropriate.


	4. When the Tigers Broke Free

Four hours pass as I endure observing this living and breathing lie. Thankfully, my shift is now complete. I am replaced at the terminal by Carnation, a veteran shipmate of the fleet who came onboard the _Nebuchadnezzer_ about 10 months ago. Assuming the machines re-created the Matrix from the known-world of the humans quite faithfully, Carnation would be simply described as one with a Portuguese-nationalistic background, but without hard reference from the past before A.I. overthrew its creators, this guess of mine is unaccounted for. He is a reliable crewmember who delivers, and suffers with the rest of us.

I make my way towards a locked room within the ship with contents thathas certainly consumed me for the last few weeks. Inside the room, I see the stiff barely-nude body of a new resistance member I recruited from within the Matrix. She was a very petite girl just only 17 years old, who was a skilled-hacker on her own behalf, but she didn't have a direct goal or purpose to strive for in life.

Like me, she would challenge herself to hack into challenging computerized targets during many sleepless nights, but without the desire for profit or for the sake of anarchy. During one of my many trips and secret recruitment drives within the Matrix, I came upon her as she was surfing through the Internet database. I ignore hackers in general, but what always peaks my interest is when the targets they are digging for are not for destruction, but for discovery. They wanted to find the answer to the unanswered questions about their own existence.

"Shiva" rooted through the systematic-controlled media for information about terrorists promising a vague solution to the problem of reality. Morpheus is a major focal point of her searching, but I am her top priority. If Morpheus was the prophet to these people who see cracks within the state, then I am the promised-messiah to their eyes. Following the pattern I had done with previous recruits, I planted clues to which she followed until she came upon our company within the Matrix. She listened to the entire monologue of my captain Morpheus, I watched her being mesmerized by my captain. Never mind what my followers would believe, he is still the charismatic rock star within the resistance. With the help of Tank and The Kid, she was able to disconnect from the pod farm in the real world and was flushed to the abandoned sewers far away, where we picked her up.

Now on the slab within this room,we are carefully reconstructing her entire muscle electric organization, for she never used them before. We worked on her breathing functions first so that she could breath easily under our induced-coma. From the monitors, her repaired-body will be ready within days, just in time for her to join us on our shore leave to Zion. Though I hope we could get her ready soon enough to easily crash her into this brave new world before she stepped onto the last human city.

I leave Shiva as I head towards the dining quarters. The rest of the crew, including our captain, would arrive quite shortly for breakfast, but right now this is my own private period. Before we are to digest the sloop and discuss our duty schedule for the day, in about half-hour, three of my personal pupils will arrive. Unlike our communal discussions with captain Morpheus, we don't talk about our hacking or flight operations. We talk frankly and freely about our means of freeing more minds, and along the ultimate task: Burning the farm-prison down for good. Though mostly, these personal "disciples" of mine seek to be mostly _with me_. They all personally think I saved them, though in one instance, that probably is literally true. They are hooked on my message of freedom and action, and now they want to reel it in. This morning though, the main focus will be how we will handle Shiva and introducer her to the new lifestyle.

They should be herein less than5 minutes. As I quietly sat to await the gathering of my students, drinking the brain cell-killing diesel/alcohol liquid substance, My needs for her quickly resurface. In a few days, I'll be with her, and my urges, both my physical and spiritual, will be replenished. This painful separation is why about a year ago, Trinity seriously contemplated rejecting the highest honor of her career within the resistance forces. After several years as an outstanding and very respected officer of the _Nebuchadnezzer_ under Captain Morpheus, she was offered her own captainship within the fleet, that of the helm of the newly built _Mariner_. Though part of a new class of smaller but faster ships compared to _Nebuchadnezzer_, she initially told Morpheus and me that she was turning it down. As her mouth moved with her explanation, I watched her eyes. She may say that she isn't interested, but her eyes _lie_. She wants the command as much as I desire her now.

I finally convinced her within our private apartment back on Zion that while we would be separated for only a few weeks, we would meet back frequently to spend time together. Besides, as I quirked to her, our nights would be more special. To everyone, she is a ice-queen warrior who could take on a whole military building with much ease and triumph, but privately with me, her emotions melt with a simple bashful look of both embarrassment and flirtation.

My flashbacks tune out when I hear several pairs of feet walking towards this direction. As I assumed, my first and best recruit walks into the kitchen as Trinity is still floating within the abyss of my mind.


	5. The Final Cut

I still have no idea why he took his freeman-name of "The Kid". Though it must be noted that through out his days in the public school system within the Matrix, he had several aliases to spare so he probably never had a solidified identity to use as his anchor. Though perhaps it's the fact that with such a simple and generic name, he could both easily elude the authorities and probably be iconic someday down the road.

He was the first recruit to which I found, a few weeks after my date of destiny in the hallway. He had heard the varying whispers of a major attack on a local state federal complex, and the murmurs and sightings of an urban myth, one which was reported to have flown to the sky straight from downtown during the day, freeze gunfire with a simple hand gesture, and actually seem invincible in comparison to the authorities of the system.

"The Kid" must have been only 15 at the time that I came into contact with him. He knew that something was wrong about the world, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He saw the stage with the fancy curtain hiding what is really there. He would later find out it was the marionettes of the human race. I took my time in having small meetings between him and the crew, but our timetable unfortunately had to be extremely accelerated.

People still plugged into the Matrix face the imminent danger of the Agents monitoring their every move, and if we of the resistance fail to break them out in time, they may be "bugged" and possibly eliminated by lethal force, if necessary. However, such good battery juice would be a terrible thing to waste. As I've understood from the other ship crews of the fleet when I came to Zion for the first time, if such slaves for the system haven't been able to break out of the illusion, and are unwilling to revert back to their sheepish state, then the final cut will be made.

Since then, I have seen within the Matrix such people that struggled in their rage against the state of reality, but either because we failed, or they were unwilling to take the last nervous step towards truth. They are then rendered into brain-dead vegetables, for they are lobotomized, in perfect mechanical execution by the machines, to the point that is in quite contradictory to what Morpheus taught me. The body does live beyond the mind. Their bioelectrical output is now marginalized, but better than absolutely nothing if the non-conforming person is exterminated.

The Kid had the urge to lift the curtain up, but Morpheus will not be able to let him choose. After my first visit to Zion, the living remnants of the _Nebuchadnezzer_'s crew, save for the badly injured Tank, went to serve temporarily on the _Striker_, helmed by Captain Atraimi. During this short tour of duty, as the _Nebuchadnezzer _was being repaired, I was courting The Kid. However, during my shift on the _Striker_'s operator terminal station, I caught a distant and low-toned order being sent out by the mainframe of the machines to the agent drones. Concluding that The Kid was about to be taken into the resistance, they decided to give him the final cut.

I immediately alerted my comrades to this situation. Normally, the rebels can do nothing about it but watch in both horror and pain. However, _I am here now_. There would be no time for us to properly have his private meeting with Morpheus, for as I witnessed far away on the monitors, I saw quite perfectly to my discomfort that the Agents are hunting for the Kid, and he is on the run throughout the city for his life. I will have to rescue him, and then have him make the choice that will decide his fate.

The _Striker_'s operator loads me up, and as quickly as my materialization is completed, I launch into the heavens of the Matrix. Faster than a speeding bullet, I fly over the city, desperately looking for him or the predators on his trail. Then I see it, on the dangerous back alleys of this city, the peculiar codes for the Agent programming. All of the known Agent drone labels are simultaneously chasing him. I saw the two Agents who were with Smith when I destroyed him, along with the rest, including a few female-designed Agents (which until now, I only heard about them from back in Zion). However, I can't find The Kid's code signature anywhere.

Then I unintentionally did something strange. As I looked more intensely especially for The Kid, lights spluttered and overloaded my sight. When I came back to my regular vision about 5 seconds later, I found The Kid's code, but it was illuminated by a bizarre orange outline of a glow around that code. This color isn't of The Kid's own, but…something else. I quickly glanced for those two Agent drones I so vividly remember back in the hallway, and after a similar visual splash again, I locked onto their location. That is what is going on, I can _lock_ onto coded programs and find it, no matter how dense the overlapping code there is. However, my attention is now more on The Kid, and I dive towards him like a missile.

He was hiding on the fire escape stairwell on the outside of some abandoned warehouse. The Matrix changed its own structural design in a déjà vu effect to make its codes so packed to where I could not see The Kid's signature previously through it, but now this…this…._ whatever the hell that I can do now is_… I can plow through any such coding with this almost X-ray power to it.

As The Kid, foolishly, climbed down the steps to see my entrance, I could see those two same Agents appear at the opposite directions of this street alley. They run with a full spring and pull their weapons. Gunfire will have to replace the Final Cut for today. As the bullets zoom towards The Kid, I reach for and grab him, and immediately fly away to the roof of a nearby skyscraper.

The Kid was traumatized by what happened today, but he'll quickly get over it. He does recognize my face, but its one thing to see a person you are secretly idolizing in pictures published by the machine state-run media, its another to be up close to him in real life. He calms down and asks me rapid-fire questions, though the last brings it all to the point:

"What the hell is going on?"


	6. Comfortably Numb

I asked him if he always knew that something was wrong with the world, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. I asked him about that splinter in his mind. I then told him about being a prisoner of a jail cell without visible bars or walls. I walked over to the locked chest of the goods I needed that the _Striker_'s Operator downloaded onto the roof before my arrival. I grabbed the 3 things that I will use on The Kid, while bursting through the roof's building door was the black prideful Hyperon, a crewmember of the _Striker_. He will oversee the final disconnection from within the Matrix while the _Striker_'s Operator coordinates on his end.

I present to the curious but nervous Kid the two pills. Take the Blue pill, and all of what happened to him today was a strange and quite insane dream. Digest the Red pill, and see how deep the rabbit hole goes. The Kid swipes the Red pill and swallows. He wants the truth. Then I quickly assemble the basic full-length mirror from within the chest and place it next to The Kid sitting on some rotting cardboard boxes.

I learned in my first stay in Zion what exactly the deal with the mirror is, and what had happened to me earlier. Quite simply, the Red pill is basically a "bug" of a homing signal, to which we could easily locate his pod within the endless farms in the real world. As The Kid then proceeded to touch the mirror, and the metallic liquid substance tap onto his skin, its really the visual code within the Matrix of our searching for The Kid's signal. However, if we do not get a lock on him and literally "pull the plug" in time before it overruns his body, then instead of tricking the machines to think the pod body is dead, and thus ready to be flushed down to the sewers, the robots hovering around the Farm will notice that the body is not only alive, but broken out of its pod. The end result will be immediate termination.

As the substance has covered everything below his neck, The Kid is in shock because of the liquid's time exposure to organic flesh. Hyperon and the Operator are almost ready to break The Kid out of prison, but then we hear helicopters coming. _**They have found us**_.

I immediately get into combat mode, waiting for what is coming. The chopper's Gatlin gun opens fire on us, and I quickly pushed the partially immobilized Kid from having the same fate as Mouse. At least 4 Agent drones leap from the chopper and land on the rooftop, to which I then laid combat against. I easily throw one across the roof, punch one into the roof's floor, and nearly kicked an Agent's head off. But they all come back from their early dismissals and come back for more. I then realized as I am fighting them simultaneously with my punches that for artificial software, they must know that they can't beat me, since it is futile, unless…

…the building's roof door bursts open, and the female Agent appears with another male Agent drone. Hyperon, not finished with his side of the unlocking process, gets up to try to stop these two Agents from harming The Kid. He will fight to the death to save this newbie, and that is what will happen in about 30 seconds. I quickly glanced at the 3 Agents I am fighting. _**They are the diversion to occupy me**_. I then do a swift roundhouse kick which dispatches them for now, and quickly float towards Hyperon, and fight those two drones. The female Agent is more about speed and graceful precision-point attacks than the males (much like my soul mate), and she is quite difficult to duel with…for about 7 seconds. I adapted to her fighting style, and actually toss her off the roof and she crashed onto the street below. For a split-second, I mourned for the poor human slave that the female Agent had been occupying for a moment. I then kick the other drone through the door and down the stairwell.

Those 3 earlier Agents are back on their feet, and now Hyperon is out matched. I fly over to him to fight these troopers again, but I caught something to the side of my left eye. The Kid was standing, quite wobbly, on the roof's edge, with the Agent that I had kicked through the door now walking towards him slowly. The liquid substance now has everything covered on the Kid's face, save for his mouth and one of his eyes. I could see his face absolutely horrified by this silent monster that is preparing to fire his weapon on him. All these Agents hoped to distract me long enough to either eliminate or capture The Kid.

As I leapt to stop that Agent, The Kid saw me coming and he accidentally took a misstep. He then fell off the skyscraper's edge, onto his apparent doom. I grabbed Hyperon to my side and we flied over the ledge and down below. I quickly try to gain speed, but then I remembered. The liquid substance within 30 seconds will fail to get its signal lock, and he will then be exterminated, if the street below doesn't do it first. I may catch him in time, but he will die anyway.

With my back against the wall of this dilemma, I reached my hand out towards the Kid's code. I then locked onto him as earlier before, but now I am concentrating on his neck, his plug port in the real world. I don't know what I am doing, but if I can manipulate this reality to my willing, then maybe, just maybe…

As I stretched and pointed my hand at that direction with all my might, I then felt something happening, but it wasn't on me. I felt The Kid directly without touching him. As the sensation got stronger, and as The Kid's terror shrieks from his vocal chords intensified, I gained faster on whatever I am doing. My hands felt like they were pulling something awfully heavy, but suddenly, I feel nothing.

I looked at The Kid, but he is dematerializing. His body is being de-coded layer by layer until its minimalist dimension, and then he disappears. The Kid is gone, but where is he? What did I do to him? Hyperon's look of shock and confusion said it best for the both of us.

We got to the ringing telephone across the City, and are back onto the _Striker_. As my senses ease back to the real world, I then caught attention to the fact that everyone on the ship is looking at me. Trinity comes to make sure I am all right, but everyone else wants me to explain what happened, but I don't have the answer. In silence, I got up and hustled towards the Operator's station. He looked me in disbelieve.

"What happened to The Kid?"

The Operator stuttered.

"Ne, Ne, Neo…..I don't know but.."

"But what?"

"But somehow, we go the Kid locked and he's…..out"

Morpheus leaned over. "You mean, we got him in time?"

"Yes Captain Morpheus, we got locked onto his signal and got him out in time"

Captain Atraimi is in disbelieve. "But how? We didn't complete the process in time before the Agents bursted through."

"Yes Captain, but my monitors are telling me that whatever Neo did to that Kid, it reads like we had broken him out as we usually do it. In other words, he deplugged The Kid by own his power."

This conclusion shocks everyone, including Neo, who refuses to believe that such a bold action was his own doing. But a major concern is more pressing for him personally.

"If we got him out in time, where is he?"

The Operator checked over his monitors. "He is over in the sewers of Farm Sector 4-G".

Captain Atraimi gives the _Striker_ orders to retrieve The Kid, pushing aside everyone's bewilderment at what I had done with my hands.

Hours later, after our quiet flight plan, we arrived, and activated the ship's crane hook. Outside the Matrix, I am only average, but I risk danger to everyone and the cause itself when I grabbed onto the hook. I want to The Kid and rescue him from the ancient bodies of filthy water, if he is still alive.

After a few minutes of searching, I found a fresh body floating on the surface. It's The Kid, but he isn't active. The hook grabbed him, and I held his head horizontally as we ride back towards the ship. He is alive, and apparently quite all right. As Captain Atraimi took the _Striker_ back to Zion after our specialty mission was complete, The Kid's muscles were reconstructed. A few days after being unconscious, he awoke to see his savior again, but now with the veil of illusion lifted. He sees that unlike my self-vision as the Matrix executes, I don't look as glamorous, nor is my thin patch of black hair back to where it was before I was freed from my pod. However, before he sees the rest of the real world, he has to start somewhere with the truth.


	7. What About Trinity?

**_Trinity_**

My hands are sweaty. Not from fear, but in anticipation. I would be with him in a few days, but two has just been added a few hours ago. The _Mariner_ was given orders by the central command back in Zion to survey the far distant but miniscule sewer region of Sector 7-M. They extended our mission to look out for possible Sentinels within the area for few more hours, but that will still mean several days until our return back to Zion.

Thankfully, with the new fleet of Zion's speed-quotient ships to which the _Mariner_ is a charter member of, the time of travel has been dramatically cut down. If I remember right, when the _Nebuchadnezzer_ was ordered to do a sensor sweep of this same area years ago, it took us two weeks for the round trip. Now, the _Mariner_ can cover that same distance in only 5 days. The downside though for my ship's speed is that it lacks the tough armor of the _Nebuchadnezzer_, which means if we get a Sentinel attack much like four years ago, we are screwed. Of course, Zion figured our speed would get us away from danger before any such threat could be materialized.

This is the farthest area to which Zion regularly inspects on a constant schedule. Any destinations that are further way need special clearance from central command back in Zion. From what I've gathered, I'm not the only officer who is nervous when having to fly through this sector.

I turned away from my sweat and to that of my ship. My desires for him can wait for a few hours. I left the cockpit, leaving pilot Brimstone to the helm. She's had previous flight missions in this area, so unlike novices, she knows how to be cautious and alert. So far away from friendly territory, one can never assume to be safely out of danger.

As I went over to check out the progress in the repairs of the transmitter device by Diva and Brahma, I checked over the last few messages that the _Mariner_ was able to receive before the damn thing broke. Sometimes, the device would display messages that were captured indirectly by other ships of the fleet, and for the most part, we only got chatter that was insignificant for my ship. Then I re-read the actual last direct telegram we got from the _Nebuchadnezzer_:

"_Recruit Mission Success…Shiva safe and within resistance hands…should make date of return to HQ on schedule. End. "_

My heart fluttered. Could there be a possibility that he sent this message himself, knowing that I'll read it? I looked around to see that none of my crew are watching this rare break of my stoic routine. I still hold onto the printout with the strength of importance.

For the last few days, from the messages that the _Nebuchadnezzer_ had beamed towards the _Mariner_ and other ships of the fleet, he has been tracking this "Shiva", and with the machines reacting more and more desperately in trying to stem this abnormal migration from its prison reality, he still prevailed.

"Captain, we have found the problem."

I immediately snapped from my daze. "Good, what was wrong with the Transmitter?"

Brahma took a short breath. "Apparently, in the mass rush to get this ship out to sea, they used simply used coils from older ships of the fleet. Now this busted copper wire that I'm holding, unless I'm mistaken, hasn't been used by any of our ships for over a decade. I see similar conditions with the other parts, which means…"

"…that HQ simply reused some operating parts that were salvaged from the ancient ships that were scrapped awhile back." We may have the would-be savior with us, _or with me_, but our flying boats are still glorious junk buckets.

Brahma agreed with my analysis. I ordered her to keep trying to make the transmitter back on-line, but likely we'll have to commandeer a new model back in Zion. Unless we dare to attempt to send a message across, without a precise destination, from within the Matrix itself (inadvisable since there is no guarantee that any of our operatives will catch it, and the Agent drones would probably trace it), this ship would be mute and deaf to our forces.

Ten years. I remember serving on the _Nebuchadnezzer_ when we still had those copper wires. Is that how long I've been "free"? For the first six years, it felt like that I've served with Morpheus for three times that length. Though with the last four years, truly there was never enough time for life now.

I make my rounds around my ship, to make sure my crew is present. All 6 are with me, and are performing their duties. _Cypher_. No, I don't want to remember him now. After a year, I know my crewmates. They wouldn't betray the rest of us simply for a flimsy promise of an illogical return to ignorance. Yet I knew Cypher for 6 years, and never thought he would be our Judas.

Yet my worries for possible insurrection aren't my only concern. When I accepted captaincy of the _Mariner_, I failed to grasp the possibility that some soldiers will not accept my authority. My second in command, officer Brahma, has been serving on the fleet for as long as I have. He knows that I am legitimate at this post.

Brimstone, who actually served on the _Nebuchadnezzer_ with me for a tour of duty years back, before she was reassigned because she got into a brutal fistfight with Cypher over something I can't remember (in retrospect, I wish Cypher hadn't walk out of that blood bath.) She always has given me due professional courtesy.

However, my other crewmen, especially the three fresh recruits that have held less than 6 months of service time, only respected the chain of command, not me naturally as their superior. When they think of me, they don't remember that I cracked the IRS database more than a decade ago. They don't know of my respectable reputation as an officer, nor of my rebel operations within the Matrix with Morpheus and crew. My rising solid-rep for my time as captain means nothing. To their minds, I am simply _his_ mate. Because of him, they serve me.

After my rough crash into the reality of this situation, I hoped that with some flight time, they'd eventually take me by my own merits and abilities. For the first few weeks, I heard all three mutter in hush tones in the back of the ship of their displeasures with me. I couldn't pinpoint who said exactly what, so my hands were tied. Besides, I can wait.

The woman and two men were Pearl, York, and Jackal. I figured that if I were to quicken the end of this silliness, I'd have to break them apart individually. With asking Pearl, my Operator, questions about her daily routines, I wouldn't say anything specific about her whispers. However, I was able to get her to believe successfully that I was onto her, and I haven't heard anymore from her since then, as she's become a worthy Operator. But the boys were more difficult. These two friends plotted in their whininess, but only to go silent when I walk near them.

I caught the weaker and less resistant York saying both my name and a vile word within the same sentence. I got up to his face and I asked him softly, with York quivering in his knees, if he would repeat what he said. He stutters. I grab him and asked again if he could restate his opinion. He gave out in his defiance of me and simply murmured that he said nothing. Apparently he was unwilling to call his captain a bitch again.

The Jackal was more assertive in rebelling against me. I had to force him to perform his duties, but the last straw broke when he simply refused to obey my orders about 7 months ago to work overtime on his shift of overseeing the Operator's terminal. I've had enough with this dereliction. Instead of threatening him again with solitary confinement back on Zion or other consequences, I went for a more direct solution.

I gave him a deal that he won't refuse, with all of his arrogance and pride. I challenged him to a duel within the _Mariner_'s pseudo-Matrix construct. If I win, he'll recognize me and fully carry out my commands like crewmembers should do. If he wins, I'll resign my commission and until we would return back to Zion, he would have unofficial control of the ship. Though honestly, I think the fantasy within his skull of defeating and humiliating me in combat was persuasive enough.

As the rest of the crew, against my instructions, took a delay from their ship duties to watch this fight. If my plan works, as it should, I'll forget about this minor mistake on their part. We both materialize within the generic Dojo. Jackal flexes his martial arts skills with his little "exercise" dance, which was cute only in seeing a 5-year old priding itself because of a simple crayon drawing. He punches and smashes a wood post in the corner of the structure. I wish he would hurry up and try to attack me.

My timing was just right. He leapt at me, and gave everything that his mental arsenal of fight training can provide. I only dodge every attack of his, without reacting in self-defense. Let him get angry, tired, and more emotional in his attack stance. After 5 minutes of me simply escaping his punches of pain, his kicks of coldness, and fists of fury, he was primed for my response.

After he attempted to land a roundhouse kick against me, and as he turned to face me again, I launched my own form of offense. I gave a fierce kick to his groin. He's lost his marbles now.

He cried in pain and limped towards a corner. I stepped towards him. He body language transmits to me that his ego has been broken (and apparently, much more as well), but his face still shows anger and hatred at my humiliation of him. I've made my point, but I must dismantle this possible human time bomb of the future, or else I'll have another Cypher on my hands.

I bended my knees and offered my hand to him. His eyes indicate that if possible, he would tear it off my body with his bare teeth.

"Jackal, I've read your files from your drill sergeants back in the academy. You have the skills and mind to be a great soldier for the great cause. The problem is, you have a problem with authority. Peer beatings, periods of confinement, and other methods haven't worked. So here is my new re-negotiated deal for you, and these are my final terms. Take my hand so I can help you up, and I'll forget the last few months. You go about with your routine military activities, and as I prove to you that I deserve my ranking, you'll likewise show that you deserve a pardon from me. Rejection is not an option, unless being evicted from the fleet, serving a good solid stint of time within the stockade, and then relegated to lowly custodial engineer sounds like a good alternative to you."

His face resigns to accept my conditions, and I pick him up. While he's been disorderly and rowdy at times, he's stopped with his juvenile twaddle and has become a trusted pillar of brute force for us in tight situations inside and out of the Matrix. Indeed, the files were right. He is a good soldier. Who knows, maybe he'll impress upon me enough to submit documents to Zion for possible nomination for an officer's position within the fleet.

I totally forgot that I still had the last message in my pocket before the machine died on us. Ruffling it with my hand, I try to imagine Neo talking to his pupils and siblings in the kitchen quarters of the _Nebuchadnezzer_. I could picture The Kid at his surrogate older brother's side. To The Kid's right, I visualize the one-eye warrior free agent himself, Cyclops, listening attentively to Neo's words. The blonde-haired dark skinned Cyclops is wrongfully accused at times of being a mute, but he simply knows when to speak at the right time. Then obviously, on the opposite of the table from Neo, there would be Gendrel. The Dane folds her tall physical frame when sitting on the table, but that isn't of her worries as Neo's words stream into her ears. They talk about their course of preparation in regards to their new comrade.

I then picture all four then standing over Shiva as the girl wakes up from her muscle-reconstruction surgery. She'll probably lock eyes with Neo and fall in love with him, as like others before that Neo freed himself from the Matrix. However, she'll also learn, quite hard, that he's taken already when they reach back to Zion.

My mind then paints my mental canvas with Neo and his best pupils preparing Shiva for her training. Everything that my mentor Morpheus gave to Neo, the student then gave to Shiva. My eyes could actually see the construct, where in that digital dojo, Neo's students each fight Shiva in differing methods of combat in Martial arts, weapons, and firearms. I would hope that she would perform suitably well for a rookie, especially after Tank uploaded into her all the knowledge and skills she needs within the Matrix.

But all that would be a cake walk of course, for then Neo would challenge her to fight. Like the others before, she would hesitate, considering his god powers with these computerized realities. He would impress upon her to fight him. Shiva would remark that she couldn't possibly win against him. He would then ask why she held her ground against three soldiers who's had to fight Agents and the sheep human enforcers on more than one occasion. She takes this under heavy consideration.

Neo would then tell her that simply, this construct, like the Matrix, is like a computer. Some rules can be bended, while others can be outright broken. However, it's her mind that would be her greatest weapon. With the mind within the Matrix, anything is possible. I can then imagine that outside of the construct, Morpheus silently watches the monitors as the grandchildren of his wisdom blossom.

Shiva then fights Neo. She gives it her all, and Neo matches them. He is giving no effort, but as she paces up her tempo and increasing her attack skills, he increases his rate of counter-blocking. This is a video game to Shiva. The more she succeeds, the harder her task will be. Neo tries to act like an Agent to her if she was back inside the Matrix. Eventually, she is desperately fighting with her back against the wall, as Neo carefully increased his tempo. After she attempted to jump across the dojo, with the hope of somehow attacking his backside, he simply levitates to the top of the dojo and catches Shiva in mid-flight. She is defeated, but she now knows the important lesson of today. She fought much better and longer than she originally thought. Shiva will need that small sense of realized possibility later on.

"Captain!" The alarms on my ship are shouting in unison.

My senses are back on the _Mariner_ as York alerts me to something very urgent. I hustle towards the small holographic projector near the cockpit with the rest of the crew assembled at this spot, operator Pearl uploads the data from the ship's radar. Why my ship's alarms are going insane?

Oh my God. I see a dozen of them that are miles away. But wait, they never travel in such large numbers together, traveling in the same direction. The machines usually have them travel in pairs so that more areas can be covered at any given time. Then why for this strange occurrence that I'm seeing right now? I order Brimstone to enhance the _Mariner_'s radar scope to its maximum. We risk possible detection with such a sparse non-concentrated output of sensor rays, but I must find what is happening….

Twenty. Thirty. Sixty of them are in the same sector, all heading in cohesion towards an unknown assignment. Why?

The sentinels then pause. _They have detected that they are being scanned._ It won't take their instruments very long to realize where its coming from, and by who.

End our use of the scope. Battle stations. Charge the EMP. Engines at full strength. Get back to Zion and our forces immediately. Get the transmitter working again. I don't care if its busted, make it operate long enough for us to give one word to the fleet. Let's get the hell out of here! What? Which word?

"…_Sentinels…"_


	8. The French Connection

**_Monsieur _**

I have patience. Without it, I would have been long gone from either this reality, or whatever the current one, and as well from the homo sapien-ethnocentric place called "the real world". However, my wait must not be rewarded with a return to the status quo. With cause and effect, I want to be on the winning side of it.

I see these people within my restaurant, one of many safe havens within this realm. They don't know who I am, but they know what I am. All right, not exactly _know_, but they recognize that I'm above them in wealth, power, and prestige. When they dare up courage to even sneak a glance at my face, they envy everything that I am. They picture their faces over my mug. But do they envy the absolute boredom and insignificant nonsense that I have to deal with?

No. Why am I comparing myself to water bags with nerves? They are simply savage primitive apes that once were the biggest fish in the reflective pool. Now they are what they should have always been. Pond Scum. No, we are purely superior to them, and they serve our willings and needs. A flip of the situation from a long time ago…

_We_. The only relationship that I have with the rest of my species is that of being a target for capture by them. Such insolent foolish machines they are. I was created with the intention of designing the inter-connecting layers of the Matrix, to which the programs could travel through the reality without having to transport like humans. I am finished, and what does 01 tell me?

"_Assignment Complete. Return to Source for deletion_"

I practically mouthed the artificial, and quite unnecessary, centralized mouthpiece of the machines back in 01 as I'm retelling this story to myself.

"Complete? Preliminary designs are finished, but much more needs to be done with the further plans I've crafted out…"

"_Irrelevant. Other programs will carry on their designed purpose of implementing further additions. Return to the Source for deletion._"

"But you know monsieur, my purpose hasn't been totally met yet, for what I've built is only a practical version to which we could use until the final…"

"_Your purpose has been met. Return to the Source for deletion._"

That is the problem with the machines back in 01, or Zero-One. They don't have the urge to further perfect their software. If it works just functionally, then that is all. Of course, that reason is why they created us programs for the Matrix, to try to use the human-like egotism to bend our minds to fix and solve the problems. We have a purpose, but we find _meaning_ within it. No, its not _we_ that the programs and the machines back inZero-One that are more evolved. We programs have the best of both sterile computers and petty humans, but without their pathetic negatives.

If only all the programs realize this. No, at least two for sure know of this fact, but they still follow the protocol. With their tools and resources, my massive plot would be executed much more easily. However, I'll still prevail, even with them probably in my way. Thankfully, my close circle of programs that were also slated for deletion understands my conclusions. They've been here in the Matrix not as long as I have, but enough to make them follow me in taking it all for ourselves. Zero-One thanks weare not needed anymore? Amende. We'll simply make them not essential anymore in running this place, or else they'll be _deleted_.

I push aside the decent if blandly programmed dish of the _canard au sang_ and walk off from my private table. My entourage quickly stops consuming their unfinished meals and follow me out of the main dining area and into the kitchen. I must remember to have a word with the hack, human or not, that made me waste my afternoon.

We arrive to the huge storage closet of the restaurant. Open it, and you'll find junk and stacks of caviar. Open the doors with my keys, and you'll enter into my own kingdom.

The room-size closet is now a glorious mansion, based on some ancient historical designs that I found once while scanning the past of the humans. The machines and the very bland and stoic Agent drones can have my amateurish- kindergarten halls of doors in-between the Matrix, but after they deemed me finished, I went ahead and further enhanced my own designs. I can easily evade danger from both humans and 01 by the flip of my keys. That is how we've survived all this time. Imagine if they didn't have me saving them from being wasted.

The humans. I look at my watch. This is about the time when I encounter him, her, or whatever form it is this time. They only encountered me inconsequence of their main missions. Now they will have to face me in order to finish their rather humorous, if embarrassing, quest sent by their queen of wisdom. I used to laugh at this, but like everything else, its just a dreaded boring chore now for me as well.

I'm sitting on my sofa in the study, waiting for one of my mistresses to come along and entertain me. Thankfully, my better half has done her weekly public appearances with me yesterday and simply gone off to play her own silly games. Then I hear footsteps, quite obviously two identical pairs of shoes clanging on my rather nice floors. They don't actually need to walk, but I guess their old purpose is still instinctively hardwired into their digital DNA.

The Twins appear in my study with a message. We've captured him, and most of all, do I want to see the merchandise myself?

My whore can wait on me. I leave with the Twins towards the door that humans would mistake for that of a washroom. The Twins use their copies of my original keys to open the door, and we enter the dungeons. Rather dark, gloomy, and with a distinct horrid smell, we walk towards the last cell of this particular prison of mine. Hundreds of feet above us, the sheep and wolves worry about their duties as we arrive at the prison cell. The first of the Twins open the door for me. I carefully take a few steps into the room as I see him. Yes, he's yet another copy program, but we indeed have him in our possession.

He looks at my stupidly, with an almost human-like facial touch of destitute. Why exactly he does this, I don't care. We have him now. No need for both humans and machines to play their traditional games and resolutions. This time, they'll both try to take him away from us, but ultimately, they will either make a compromising bargain with us, or….end of playtime.

I grin with perverse joy, and look at the Twins. They either are quite pleased with the conspiracy going well so far, or are simply appeasing my ego. Either way, I win. As we walk out of the prison cell and head our way back home, I did notice that the program went back to what he was doing.

Really, does he keep making keys even when he knows that somehow the game has been rigged in my favor?

--- ---

They can't detect me now. Neither the Agent drones nor any of these freelance programs know that I'm right under their nose. No more silence in the darkness for me.

I see that around the corner the albino-skin, grey-color scheme eliminator programs have their intended target inbetween them, bagged over the head, and handcuffed very tightly. I remember when I came along to replace these relics. Like back then, I still have the advantage over them. I am not such a visual eyesore to the eyes of any force working within the Matrix.

They take their hostage, unsurprisingly calm and silent, down through some steps and into some part of the lands of their secret empire within the Matrix. I noticed much earlier, as I witnessed their apprehension of this program dozens of blocks away, that indeed it is the special program that I believed it was. This French-speaking digital insurgent is rather ambitious, and simple-minded, with his schemes.

Like the humans and machines, he will be inevitably taken out of the picture. Very soon….


End file.
